


Back to Palo Alto

by morgan_winter17



Category: AOS - Fandom, Agents Of SHEILD, SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Multi, during season 10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan_winter17/pseuds/morgan_winter17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester never thought he'd see his dead girlfriend again. Bobbi Morse never thought she'd run into Sam Winchester again after her mission. They were both wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Mission

Bobbi’s bones ached, deep and lingering. It was an effort not to collapse back on the bed and go back to sleep. The wall held no character. Except for a mirror, it was completely barren. A flash of her blonde hair caught her eye as she turned towards the door. Lance was probably pacing outside the door, wondering if he should come in and confront her for pushing him away…Again. She had been burned before, literally. The fact of the matter was she had enemies and she knew, rationally that he was a big boy and could handle himself. They’d come for him sooner later to get to her; however, all that kept them together, if she was being completely honest, was the…sex. The world was never going to become a better place: she had seen enough fucked up shit to put her off the goodness of humanity for a long while.

The world didn’t allow for innocence, not anymore. Bobbi leaned her head against the wall, turning her attention to the ceiling. Yellow eyes flashed in her memory; followed by the phantom pain of a knife across her abdomen. Her hands drifted down to the scar. That was the last time she would ever allow herself to lose control over her emotions.

Her phone chimed. Bobbi picked it up and glanced at it. She climbed out of bed slid her Nikes on, pulling on a Shield hoodie as she did so.

“Bobbi,” Lance jumped as she exited her room, starting to follow her.

“Not now. I have to speak with Coulson,” she replied curtly, brushing by him.  

* * *

Sam flipped through the journal. It had been ages since he and his brother had even bothered to look at it. This hunting trip should be good for them, just plain old vampires. No angels or demons. Nothing scripture worthy. To be honest he was getting tired with the Bible and all its fuckery. Newspaper clippings littered his lap and the purr of the Impala was a welcome sound. The bunker was nice; it was good for both of them to have a steady home, but it wasn't as homey as the Impala. 

"Sammy, where's this nest?" Dean inquired, stuffing another fry into his mouth. Sam glanced up. 

"Cape Girardeau. Remember that racist truck he replied, taking a bite of his burger. Sam caught his brother's grin and sighed. 

"Really, Dean? What do you think the likelihood of Cassie still living there is?" 

Dean shrugged. Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. 

"Dude, this is to get you back to normal," Sam muttered. 

"I am normal, Sam. What is this trip going to be? A chick flick?"

"Well, I was going to suggest driving a couple hours south to Sikeston to go to that Lambert's place." 

"Where they throw the rolls?"

"Yep.”

Sam turned back to his research, trying to push his worry about the mark to the back of his mind. Maybe this was all they needed to get back to normal: a long drive to take out a vampire nest and soft rock and roll playing background to the Impala’s purr.

* * *

"Cape Girardeau, sir?" Bobbi asked, flipping through the pages in the mission assignment. 

"Yes. You've been off your game lately, Bobbi, and I want you back to normal," Coulson replied, typing away at his keyboard. Pictures of a run down building appeared on the screen behind him. 

"This is were we believe the Inhumans are residing at the moment. All you are doing is recon. If you think they are a threat to the civilian population, I'm authorizing you to use whatever force you feel appropriate. Dismissed." 

Bobbi turned and left his office, heading back to her room. He was right. She hadn't been herself lately and she didn't know what it was. Maybe it was all the betrayals, all the fights, the torture,but, she didn't know. Coulson could be right and all she needed was a relaxing recon mission. 

 


	2. Same Old, Same Old

The motel room was shit. The partition between the entrance to the room and the living area was made out of some kind of composite painted a garish orange. There seemed to be a 70’s theme throughout the room. She decided that she liked it.

In some ways, she preferred the rundown motels to the luxury ones. There was something intimate about them because she knew that others had been there before her and were safe. The luxury hotels seemed sterile in comparison and everyone and their mother thought to look for agents in luxury hotels; these motels were for criminals. The dark dinginess was relaxing, calming.

She tossed her duffel onto the bed and slipped her phone out of her pocket and let Coulson know that she arrived. There were five texts from Lance. She tossed her phone onto the bed as well. She sighed, running a hand through her blonde hair. What she wanted was a shower. What she needed was a run.

* * *

Dean cracked his neck before jumping onto the bed in the motel room. It was nice, in Sam’s professional opinion of all things motel. And by nice, he meant clean-ish. Sam peeked out the window just as a flash of blonde hair passed by. He hummed to himself and opened his laptop.

“So it sounds like the vamps are holing up just outside of town,” he began, much to Dean’s dismay.

“Dude, we just drove ten hours to get here and you are already researching? It’s just a couple of vamps.”

Sam sighed. Of course Dean would take a cavalier approach to the entire thing. At least it was better than fishing, no matter what Ron Swanson says.

“I know. But we need this,” Sam replied, tapping away at the computer. Dean ran a hand down his face and rolled his body up.

“We going to case the nest tonight?”

“No. I figured we could get some sleep and start interviews with the victims’ families tomorrow. We have to get a count. Going in blind would be a bad idea,” Sam explained, shutting the laptop. He stretched on plopped down onto his bed. 

* * *

The three mile run had done wonders for Bobbi. She was sufficiently tired enough to sleep and she had gotten the feel of the town. It was quaint. Big enough to have all the big box stores in one strip, but that wasn't the part of town she was currently in. Cape Girardeau wasn't exactly a big tourist draw and there was no attempt to make it so. The only reason people would go up there was to shop at the many outlet malls. Bobbi mused that she might get a few new bras. Lambert's Cafe was a couple hours to the south. Cape Girardeau is a pass through town. 

However, the missing persons rate was abnormally high for a town this size. Then, S.H.I.E.L.D. caught wind of the strange disappearances and gruesome murders were victims had their throats ripped out, almost exclusively the carotid artery.

Bobbi sat on the floor, stretching out her legs. The file was on the bedside table but that wasn't what was troubling her. There had been a black '67 Chevy Impala parked outside and there was a faint memory of one from a former mission, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. She shook her head and retrieved the file. It was homework time. 

 


	3. Slugs for Blood

The place where the Inhumans were holing up was shit. Bobbi could understand why. The building was so decrepit that no one would think twice about it having no people in there. Bobbi knew better. She wasn’t tired of her motel room yet, but she knew the longer she left it, the more Coulson would worry, and the more he would hound her. But that wasn’t the only reason she decided to move tonight: there had been three more deaths since she arrived. Her gut told her that she would have to put them down. It was a thwarted sense of justice and she knew that the ‘logical’ thing to do would be to take them back to S.H.E.I.L.D., but there was too much risk.

She holstered her Smith and Wesson and Glock and strapped her battle staves to her thighs. A car rumbled by outside as she locked the door behind her. It was a little chilly out and she pulled her jacket closer around her and climbed into her rental.

* * *

 

It only took them fifteen minutes to reach the nest. The purr of the Impala cut off as the brothers rolled up to it. Dean popped the trunk and they grabbed their machetes. Something came flying out of the window. It was up in a minute.

They ran toward the person just as five vampires came out that same window, snarling. The woman-Sam realized- pulled a gun out of her shoulder holster and fired five quick, clean shots into each of their heads. It didn’t stop them.

Sam ran towards the woman. He decapitated one of them before turning to another. Dean had killed one of the bloodsuckers. The woman was fighting well. Professionally, as a matter of fact.

A right hook across his jaw snapped Sam out of it. He ducked the next punch and decapitated the bloodsucker. Dean had handled his vamp. The woman had caught on by now. Four of the bloodsuckers were dead. She was still struggling with the last one.

* * *

 

Bobbi wrapped the garrote around the Inhuman’s neck and was pulling as hard as she could, bracing herself against its’ back. One of the men that had jumped into the fight took their machete and finished the job for her. She tumbled to the ground, the body landing on top of her.

“Are you okay?” the tall brunette asked as he pushed the body off her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” She answered, standing and looking for one of her battle staves. The shorter man made a choking sound.

Then, he attacked her.

“DEAN!”

Bobbi threw him off of her and dislocated his shoulder and aimed her gun to his head, whilst drawing her Glock and pointing it to the taller one. She faced the taller one and got a good look at his face for the first time and he hers. 

"Jess?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait and shortness of the chapter. School has been time consuming recently.


	4. Expletives Running Through Our Heads

_Shit, fuck, what the hell?_  ran through Sam’s head as he stared at his formerly dead girlfriend. Her hair was shorter than he remembered and she was older. She wasn’t a vampire like he assumed Dean assumed. Weapon aimed at his head was steady.

            “Sam, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Jess stated, eyes flicking back and forth between the two brothers.  Sam gave a flash of a grin.

            “I thought—How did you get out? You were on the ceiling,” Sam stuttered.

            “Not sure, but it left a nasty scar and months of me behind a desk. Thanks for that by the way,” Jess said, putting the safety back on and walking over to Dean, who was glaring at her.

            “I, personally, want to know how you’re alive, Jess,” Dean growled.

            “Just shut up and give me your arm so I can put it back in place.”

            Sam watched as Jess quickly put Dean’s arm back into place. She walked around, inspecting the vampires’ heads and looking at their teeth. She picked up one of her weapons and placed it back on her person. She put little packages against the oven and turned the gas on.

            “When did you become a hunter?” Sam asked.

            “I didn’t. And is that what you two call yourselves? Hunters?” Jess replied, walking out of the building and turning to face Sam and Dean.

            “It’s what we are,” Dean muttered, leaning against the Impala. Jess cocked an eyebrow.

            “My name isn’t Jess.”

            Sam and Dean frowned as she pushed a button on what looked like a keychain. There was a tremendous boom as the house was engulfed in flames. Dean pulled his gun on her as she calmly texted on her phone.

            “What is your name then?” Sam asked, wondering how much he actually knew this woman.

            “Barbra, but everyone calls me Bobbi,” she replied, “We should get going. We have about ten minutes.”

            She climbed into the back seat of the Impala and Dean stared at Sam.

* * *

 

She was dead. Bobbi was dead. She was in the car of two fugitives, one who was a former mark with whom she grew too close to. This was a disaster waiting to happen. But, she owed them and they did seem to handle a lot of problems that popped up on a local level. So, she kept up with Sam Winchester when she couldn’t sleep at night. Sue her.

She knocked on the window and gestured at her watch. The boys climbed in and sped off. She sat there silently, noticing the hostile glances Dean was sending her.

            “So, Bobbi. What brings you here?” Dean asked.

            “Classified,” she replied, stealing a glance at Sam.

            “Classified? Who exactly do you work for? The C.I.A? F.B.I?”

            “S.H.I.E.L.D., actually. You two wouldn’t happen to be the two F.B.I agents who were poking their noses into this case were you?” she asked.

            “Are we going to be put in jail if we answer you?” Sam asked. Finally, he speaks!! Bobbi didn’t want to admit it, but she missed Sam.

            “No. However, I would suggest getting a haircut. F.B.I regulations for men’s hair is that it can’t be longer than your ears.”

She sat back and glanced around the car. So this was where these two grew up. The back of a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. She felt a stab of sympathy for them. This was no way for children to grow into men. Bobbi could tell that there was deep psychological scars on both of them from this lifestyle. She wasn’t surprised when they pulled into the parking lot of the motel. If Bobbi believed in coincidences, she would’ve said that this was one.   


	5. Bringing It All Back

Anger simmered in Sam’s gut. It was hell having Jess- _No, Bobbi_ \- this close again, yet being so far from her. He stalked into the motel room; Dean followed. He didn’t want to think of Bobbi- _Jess_ \- UGH! Whatever the hell her name was! She was probably lying about this name too. Even if the instinct that she was telling the truth niggled the back of his mind. He wanted to hold on to his anger a little bit longer. He had turned himself into a _fucking monster_ after her death.

And yet…He had missed her terribly. He wasn’t sure if he could say the same for her. So he decided to hold on to his anger because it was so much preferable to the other emotion that was running alongside to his anger.

“You’re bleeding, Sam.”

_Fuck._

* * *

 

It took Bobbi longer than it normally would have to notice the wide gash on Sam’s arm. She was distracted, by him, and she could tell that he was fuming with anger. She didn’t blame him. She knew. She knew that he was falling hard for her in Palo Alto and she didn’t do anything to stop it because…Because it felt good to be loved by him. And she would be lying if she said that she never returned those feelings.

It was highly unprofessional. She was an agent, for Christ’s sake! She shouldn’t be concerned that Sam Winchester was wounded and bleeding profusely, and that none of them have noticed until just that moment. Bobbi set her Glock on the chipped orange counter and strode into the bathroom.

* * *

 

A quiet rustle snapped Sam out of staring at the bathroom door where Bobbi disappeared to get the first aid kit.

“Are you two all right?” Cas asked, glancing around the room, taking stock of the Winchester boys. A tall brunette walked out of the bathroom and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” Dean began, “We found out that Jess isn’t dead, isn’t Jess, and in fact a government agent with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Bobbi. Castiel, I presume,” she said, setting the Tupperware box on the nightstand and pulling Sam over to sit on the bed. Cas frowned and glanced at Dean.

“Don’t ask,” he replied, taking a swig of whiskey that Bobbi promptly stole.

“HEY!”

“I’ll give it back.”

Cas started forward to heal Sam’s wound but Dean gripped his bicep, holding him back.

“She called those vamps ‘inhumans’ whatever the hell that means. I don’t trust her. So hold off on the powers.”

Bobbi cocked an eyebrow at the older Winchester. He wasn’t being very subtle. She pretended not to hear.  She focused on the deep scratch on Sam’s arm. He’d need stitches. As she drew that suture thread through the needle, her stomach gave an almighty growl.

“Hey, Dean, would you mind grabbing some burgers while I finish stitching up Sam?” Bobbi asked glancing at the door. There was no point in trying to reconcile with the older Winchester brother; he barely knew her. She had to make amends with Sam.

* * *

 

Sam begged his brother with his eyes not to go as Dean dragged Cas with him to get food. He didn’t want to be stuck in here with this woman alone. He was afraid that he might forgive her.

“I didn’t want to leave you.” She began, cutting a stitch and beginning on another. Sam gritted his teeth at the pinches.

“Do you even begin to understand what I did to avenge your death?” he hissed, glaring up at her impassive face. She gazed back, sadness in her eyes.

“I didn’t know how dangerous you were Sam. That you had enemies with strange yellow eyes. It was a miracle I even survived,” Bobbi replied, subconsciously leaning forward.

Sam felt himself leaning into her, wanting to kiss her. He pulled back and glared at the floor, furious with himself. Even after nine years, nine god-awful years, he was still attracted to her. She was looking at him with regret, which was somehow worse than pity.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, gazing up at her.

“Would you like me to not look at you at all?” she asked, a slight smile coming to her lips. Sam exhaled sharply, thought _Fuck it_ , and leaned up and kissed her.

* * *

Bobbi dropped the thread and her hands flew up to cup Sam's face.  _Oh_. This is what she had been missing. The sweetness, the mutual respect and love for each other. He didn't taste like she remembered: there was a little more bitterness from alcohol, a little less sweetness, but  _God_ , had she missed him. She bent one knee beside him, leaning on the bed, trying to get more. 

Tingles raced up her arm as he skimmed his fingers up it, to her shoulder, to hold her neck. She wanted to combust. 

 


End file.
